


There Is No Surrender

by Merfilly



Series: Quintesson Verse [2]
Category: Transformers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream's burning need is for freedom from his captors</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Is No Surrender

The rare sensation of rain on his plating brought the flier out of his internal processes. He turned his optics up to the freedom of the skies, seeing the wisps of moisture bearing dust particles, letting the sensation of moisture break him from his ever increasing need to destroy something, anything. He strained, wishing to be up among the skies, where he rightfully belonged, but the chains held him tight, pinned down in the midst of open space and inviting sky.

He hissed sharply as he realized he had done damage to his wrist, breaking the casing to expose the wiring within as he strained for the skies. His optics narrowed, watching the spark as moisture hit a frayed wire, and his processor whirred sharply.

There was freedom hidden in the single spark he had witnessed. All it would take was craft and deceit. He strained with his bonds again, fraying more wires on that wrist, breaking the casing of his other one to expose the wires there. He knelt, shunting his vital operations into low-power standby, and watched as the moisture pooled in small puddles where he normally paced and raged. Just when he was certain there was enough in the puddles for his needs, a smile touched his faceplates, and he shrieked in defiance of the captors chaining him, aware of the power of his voice to break the strongest concentration. He then plunged both wrists into the pools of moisture, letting the electricity spark and pop, sending damage signals and shorting out parts of his nervous system. He let the damage spread, inhibiting his own repair nanites, until he fell to one side, overloaded by the damage.

`~`~`~`~`

The Quintesson who owned the vast array of mechs heard its most recent acquisition shrieking in a primal fashion out in the courtyard, and realized that one of the planet's rare rains had begun. The Quintesson went to observe how the flight-obsessed mech was coping with this latest change in environment... just in time to see the mech topple over from self-inflicted damage.

"What is this?!" it demanded from the easily angered side.

"Insanity is not supposed to be a form of expression," came the more rational response.

"No matter what, this is something to be explored further. The mechanical must be repaired, and further opportunities allowed, to determine the causality," the third side said.

"Yes, yes we shall," the fourth agreed readily, while the fifth remained silent.

"Servitors! Go and take the flier to repair! NOW!" the first, emotional side, demanded, pleased when the scurrying of the servants indicated that obedience to its wishes reigned.

`~`~`~`~`

Processors came online, but the optics remained shuttered for the moment. Sensor data told him that neither his wrists nor his ankles were secured. The air felt closed in, with the pressure of walls and a roof. Other biometric data indicated organics and mechs present. The data was carefully processed, and the organic readings coalesced into one presence. That suited the flier, as he knew he would only get one chance for escape. That need burned fiercely within his Spark, making all other necessities distant, pale seconds. What was existence without freedom? And now, with calculated consideration, the flier would be able to quench the burning fire within him. All he had to do was wait for the Quintesson... as it had to be... grew near enough to strike against.

He remained quiescent, waiting, coiling energy through the untested weapon he had slowly configured in his left arm. If it worked, the Quintesson would be overloaded with energy and incapable of stopping him from escape. If it did not... and that was a high chance, when all the flier had been able to do was manipulate repair nanites and tweak it with the crude tools of his right hand... then his secret would be exposed, his freedom lost again, and possibly deactivation.

The last was no longer a threat. Too many cycles in chains had brought one pulsing, burning thought: freedom, or death.

He certainly didn't mind buying the first with another being's death, as the Quintesson finally moved close enough, and the flier reacted in an instant, leaping up and forward, hand landing square on the startled face of the logical Quintesson side, before the energy pulsed through the weapon and into the unlucky being.

The mechs that had been tending the flier's damage were stunned as their master crashed heavily to the floor, and their patient let out a triumphant shriek. None of them could have reacted in time, for the flier immediately spun and raced for the door, throwing himself into the corridor to escape the compound, navigating the halls with his spatial sensors alerting him to where the outside was. He would be free at last!

`~`~`~`~`

Perceptor, under guise of recording everything managed to follow the flier, to see that frame lift into the air and then fold, impossibly fast, into the tri-wing form that was the sleekest, most common form of flier on the planet. The blaze of the thrusters was vivid, burning away the moisture in the air even now, as the flier retreated, free of his chains.

Perceptor hoped that in the end, the Champion found that flier, and could harness the burning fire within him.


End file.
